Across the field, I caught his eye,

His terror staring into mine.

A twitch would let my bullet fly,

And on that barren ground he'd lie.

But I awoke as in a dream,

And on the stretching field did seem

A patch of roses there to be,

And life and death and us between.

I called to him and he replied,

Our rapture thusly halting time.

We told each other of our lives,

And I knew his and he knew mine.

I slept again and wept for woe,

For on that field no rose could grow.

I knew what I could never know,

And so I let my bullet go.